Recaptured
by Anonymous.Fragger
Summary: Based on Crasboombanger's audio files [links inside] Lockdown has captured Drift again. Drift gave in to him last time, but he's stronger now. How long will he last with the sadistic bounty hunter before he breaks?
1. Chapter 1

**The audio files by Crashboombanger that this universe is based on can be found here:**

** post/26034569423**

** post/26404891222**

** post/27386297478**

**If you haven't listened to them, this probably won't make a lot of sense. NSFW a bit , but amazing. 3]**

Drift burst awake, body jolting. The sound of his armor crashing into the wall behind him rung out in the empty space, the darkness pressing in on him. His spark filled with panic, which increased when he tried to pull himself up. His arms were twisted behind him and bound together unpleasantly; it was enough to drag a gasp from his throat.

What had happened? He tried to force himself to recall, but the last thing he remembered was trying to meditate in his suite back on the Lost Light, then... Nothing. He twisted again, his optics the only glow in the room, the scope of florescent panning out across the immediate floor in front of him. Rolling onto his front, he was able to push himself up to his knees, but it didn't help with identifying his surroundings.

"Good to see ya, kid."

Drift's fuel ran cold, his strut arching as he tried to turn quickly to face the voice. _Lockdown._

"No-"

"Yes," Lockdown drawled, a mild grin spreading across his face in the dark. He was looming somewhere nearby, now that Drift was alert he could feel the large mech's electromagnetic field in the same room. "Looks like I've finally caught up with you, _Driftlock_." Clenching his teeth, Drift growled lowly, the sound cut short when something heavy crashed against his back.

Loosing his balance, Drift was thrown forward, skidding his cheek against the floor. "My name is _Drift_," He hissed out, letting out a groan when Lockdown pushed his pede against the back of his helm. He shuddered, hard, optics flickering as the lights suddenly turned on; they were dim, and violet.

The ex-Con turned-Autobot flinched, but luckily the illumination was dim. However, something wasn't right. "Thi...This isn't your ship," He rasped. He had been trapped with Lockdown before, for over a month. He remembered his cell very, very clearly. Lockdown's laugh made more chills run down the mech's spine.

"How very _observant_ of you," Lockdown uttered, twisting his pede against Drift's helmet before stepping back. "No, it's not; but we'll be back on the Death's Head soon." He chuckled again, able to dodge a kick from Drift with mocking ease.

"Who's ship _is it,_ then?" He demanded. Maybe whoever it was didn't know, maybe he could get get them to tell the Autobots...

Lockdown's cackle made Drift's insides twist. "Someone ten times worse than me, kid. But don't worry, we'll be on our way soon enough..."

"You don't seem the type to partner up," Drift growled, trying to sit himself up again. His lip had split and he could taste the energon dribbling down from it. He tried pinging the Lost Light, hoping in vain that someone, _anyone_ could hear him. For a moment, he thought that he felt a ping back; a tiny blip of information, acknowledging-

"_AAAAAAH!_" Drift shrieked in agony as his processor was suddenly filled with pain, whatever having replied sending a violent jab back to him. He hunched over his knees, wheezing as the pain faded. The ship itself seemed to have answered his plea. His audios were rushing from the sudden and unexpected pain, but soon he could hear Lockdown talking again.

"-And just make sure your legs are good and useless, too." Drift jerked, trying to move away from the massive mech who was looming closer. Lockdown appeared to have gotten some new mods since last they met, as his right hand had turned into a beastly claw-hand, big enough for him to grasp Drift by the leg and easily drag him. He kicked out with his other leg, but the bulking mech caught it, giving a dark chuckle as he did. "Now now, none of that, we're all _friends_ here," He mocked, trapping one leg under his heavy pede.

Lockdown was deceptively heavy; he was so completely loaded down with mods that him putting his whole weight down on his leg caused Drift's armor to buckle. He growled out in pain, but kept his jaw tightly clenched. "Th—that's the best you can do?" He snarled, his denta bared.

The bounty hunter looked down at him, his optics flashing and a wicked grin splitting his ugly face plates. He said nothing, merely kicked at Drift's other leg, causing to land on something. There was a large strut that ran along the length of the floor and up to the ceiling, clearly some sort of support beam. The samurai-mech's shin landed on it, half of his lower leg draped off it. Drift's eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen. "No-"

"_Yes,_" Lockdown nearly purred as he lifted his other foot and slammed it down onto his captive's lower shin. This caused it to buckle, then snap, and twist. Drift _howled_, screaming out from the agony of his limb being mutilated beyond conventional repair. He screamed so loud and so long his voice box shorted out and it faded into static.

The weight lifted off his other leg, and he tried to yank it back, tried to push himself across the floor and away, but that massive clawed hand grabbed him and dragged him closer to the support structure. Drift could feel energon pooling around him, dribbling from the open wounds from his nearly severed lower leg. Lockdown repeated the gesture with his other leg, despite how hard he writhed and squirmed. In fact, it was the movements that cased even more significant damage to him, the end of his leg dangling uselessly and sparking violently.

Drift's mouth fell open and he cried out, but the only noise that occurred from the action was a faint wheeze, a gentle string of static, and the gargling of blood as it bubbled up his throat from the abuse. When Lockdown stepped off him, the mech rolled over onto his front and let out a dry sob as energon poured out his mouth.

"Heh... I think you're ready for transport," He faintly heard Lockdown say, over the screaming of his internal alarms and the rushing of fluids. His sight became blurry as the pain made his processor nearly go into stasis. His world seemed to spin around him as Lockdown grabbed him by the seam between his shoulders and lifted him. Drift felt a sick lurch in his tanks as he heard one of his limbs _thunk_ wetly to the floor, then the other. With his arms still tied tightly behind his back, and his legs completely useless, he was forced to just watch as Lockdown held him in his arms.

One of the monstrous mech's arms was under his shoulders, the other under his knees, where what little remained of his lower limbs dangled, dripping energon to the floor. Drift flinched, trying to wriggle away as the pieces of him that had been broken off were stacked on his chest, as if he were just some broken toy.

As the bounty hunter started walking, no doubt to rejoin his ship, Drift's optics fell offline, if only to fight and keep himself conscious. He wheezed and spat up more energon, his internal messages telling him that he was stable, but rapidly falling into a critical state. _He won't kill me, Turmoil would be furious_, he thought to himself, the only faint ray of hope he had. He could feel Lockdown speaking, but couldn't really make sense of what was being said. In fact, he could hardly hear anything anymore, his frame slowly going into stasis lock one system at a time.

The swords-mech let out a startled grunt and twitched as he suddenly felt another mech nearby. The electromagnetic field was _immense_, smothering even, and he was sure whoever it was, was a mech that towered even over Fortress Maximus. His processor was too sluggish to even begin to try and identify the strange bot, but he felt fear. The field revealed that the mech was angry; furious, even, but about what? He could feel Lockdown speaking again, but nothing was revealed in his tone or his field, making Drift wriggle slightly in an attempt to get away, even if he knew it was fruitless.

He was unceremoniously tossed onto some kind of metal slab; he tried to force his optics back online, to see where he was, but they had shorted out. The white mech suddenly arched and let out a hefty moan; he could've overloaded with how good it felt as his pain receptors were turned off.

Despite this, he still felt alarmed; why turn them off? Lockdown enjoyed listening to him scream, he'd made that clear on their last visit. He could feel, numbly, someone touching the wounds on the segment below his knees, and he tried to jerk away, but his form was so sluggish now it hardly mattered. He felt like he was about to offline any second now.

FUEL LEVEL AT A CRITICAL LOW

The alert within his HUD made Drift's spark sink in dread. He watched as it began to lower rapidly, the bleeding from his limbs, as well as his fuel pump cracking from the stress of the attack, ensured that he was going to pass within a matter of minutes. _He wasn't supposed to __**kill**__ me,_ he thought desperately. Knowing he was supposed to live to be handed over to Turmoil is what had kept him confident; he escaped last time, he could do it again.

A weak scream came from him, a pathetically weak sound, as his chest armor was suddenly cracked open with none too little force. He felt the huge alien mech near him, and he assumed that he had probably placed two giant hands on his armor to tear it open. He had no idea why or how, all he understood is that in his last moments of life, he was being eviscerated, his internal workings being pawed around in and some of them extracted.

His HUD exploded to life as his fuel pump was suddenly _removed_, yanked out of his body. What little energon was left in him began pouring out, he knew this must be the end- at least it was painless, though the humiliation was something he deeply regretted. Was he at peace? No. He still had so much to do, so many to protect. And odd sensation came to him, not that of pain, but one he could not fully identify. His Spark was starting to fade, and it was a draining, hopeless feeling.

Drift started thrashing, the panic setting in making him even more blind. He couldn't even feel his limbs anymore, as if they had already died and were simply waiting for him in the afterlife. Something pinned him down, probably the bounty hunter, while the giant mech began adding pressure to his chest, as if to aid his spark in snuffing out faster.

The panic had set off a primal part of his processor, and he writhed and bucked and sobbed, his throat crackling from the abuse it was getting. He could only faintly hear the voices above and around him, he felt more than heard, but they did nothing to aid in his terror. He couldn't die like this, not on some ship at the hands of the disgusting bounty hunter. Something was shoved into his chest, no doubt something to suck the life even faster from his fading spark.

The HUD flickered a few times before suddenly becoming brighter. It wasn't anything nefarious at all, but rather-

_A—A new fuel pump?_

Indeed it was, a fresh new fuel pump that had been slotted back in to replace his cracked one. Still, he continued to writhe, even with the pump there was nothing _in_ it, so he was due to pass any minute now-

He choked as he felt fingers in his mouth, forcing his lips apart and holding them there. Hissing, he tried to bite down, but the digits were strong and thick, no doubt belonging to Lockdown or his gargantuan ally. Something pushed against his mouth, then wriggled inside and shoved deeply down his throat; he choked, bit down on whatever it was; it was solid, did not give in to his denta as they clenched down on it. His voice was already weak, but it was muffled in his grunt as he felt hot fluids starting to pour down his throat tubing.

_Energon._

It was giving him _energon_. He was being force-fed, the fuel low-grade but more than welcome, as his systems began showing a positive reaction to it almost instantly. It suddenly dawned on him, as he felt the titanic being nearby push into his midsection again and force it closed. _I'm being __**repaired.**_

Even Lockdown made mistakes; he had apparently not intended to cause such damage to the mech, and was having whoever-the-frag _repair_ him. Drift sobbed out weakly, his throat clenching down on the energon transfer line, desperate for more as his fuel tank slowly began to fill.

His helm twitched as he felt the large mech come near it, toying with his helm to start fixing up his optics. When they came online, his sight was colorless and horribly out of focus; all he saw were dark and light masses. He strained to see better, but it was for naught, his optics reset. His HUD informed him it would take up to a full cycle for them to be operational again.

Once again he was bathed in darkness, and he was still very much anxious. He felt the energon seeping into his form and it soothed him, but only just. The knowledge of imminent danger was still raw in his processor, fogged as it was.

Feeling hands on him, he tried to bat them away by twisting, but he seemed to be too slow to even make contact. He groaned and took another heavy swallow of the energon, even though him doing so didn't bring any more down the tube. It was far past the point of even needing him to swallow, but somehow he was involuntarily compelled to do so, as if it would encourage more to flow.

Without warning, his pain receptors were turned back on. His back bowed upwards so far that he formed a full arch off the table, his sightless eyes wide. He had been numb to it for just long enough to forget; now it raged back through him and caused him to let out a choked scream around the cable in his mouth, nearly sending some of the fluid bubbling out. He was muffled by it, and he bit down hard to try and stunt his cries.

He could still feel the two mechs nearby; the massive one still letting off an air of anger, while Lockdown's was passive and at ease. He was left there, it seemed like forever, before the energon flow abruptly stopped and the cable was yanked from his tubing. He coughed and sputtered, but swallowed what little was left for him, knowing he was probably going to end up leaking it again. "No," He wheezed as Lockdown picked him up again, this time throwing him over his shoulder.

Despite the repairs, his lower limbs were still agonizing; he was fairly certain the bleeding had been stopped and not much else. He sobbed quietly, the hopelessness of the situation catching up to him again. But the Autobots _would_ come. Eventually... It was only a matter of waiting out until then.

Drift was thrown to the ground again, landing on his hip and skidding until he crashed into a wall. He grunted and let out a growl, his teeth clenching. He flinched as that all-too-familiar gag he had been subjected to on his last encounter was tied around his helm, filling his mouth and making his groans and grunts slightly quieter.

He was forced upright, onto his knees, and the cuffs holding his arms together was hooked to a thick chain on the wall. He slumped forward, but was unable to even touch his helm to the floor from how short it was.

"Now, look at that, nice and comfy," He heard Lockdown say; his hearing had come back, at least. He clenched his jaw around the gag, twitching as he felt the massive engine of the Death's Head rumble below him. "Just sit tight... I'll be back to _reminisce _with you in a few." He said, and despite himself, Drift felt dread starting to coil in his gut.

He nearly lost his balance and fell over when the ship took off, probably dismounting itself from the other one they had been on. Drift let out a soft wheeze when his optics flickered back online. They were till seeing in black and white, but color was slowly starting to seep into his vision, a little bit at a time. His cell, oh how he remembered it... It was just as dark, and filthy and terrible as he recalled. He twisted his neck to try and get a better look around, but it was useless.

The containment cell had not changed one bit since he last was here. Even the various tools for abuse were lined up in the same way, all hanging on the wall across from him, where he stared at them for hours on end wondering what they did, and when Lockdown would use them on him. Now, though, he was trying again to message the Lost Light, but met nothing but static. They were too far away.

_They'll know, they'll come for me._ The feeling was strange; allies, _friends_, lovers... He'd never had them before. Sure, his team had been one thing, but they _never_ would've come to rescue him. The Autobots, though? Certainly, they would come. Rodimus and Perceptor- it ached deep in his spark to think of them now- surely _they_ were already on their way to track Lockdown's ship.

He was jerked from his musing when the door opened, a rectangle of light silhouetting the beastly Lockdown. Drift growled in greeting, earning a sickening laugh from the hunter. "I'm sure you think your Autobot buddies are on their way to save you," He drawled, as if he had been listening in on Drift's thoughts. "But you're _wrong_. I've been keeping an eye on you for a while, you know- I know all your cute little quirks."

Drift curled his lip back and snarled at him over the gag.

"You're kind of a recluse, aren'tcha, Driftlock?" He was further mocked. "After all... You go into your suite and meditate; sometimes for _days_, don't you?"

The feeling of energon running cold traveled swiftly down his strut. It was true. Drift was always one to savor solitude; even if he would share a berth and quarters with this lovers, he always spent more time alone than with anyone else. In fact, he had instructed a very flustered Rodimus that he intended to spend the next few days cleansing his aura. They wouldn't know he'd been taken, not until Rodimus got curious or bothersome enough to try and pester him. But considering how irked he had been with Drift before he'd gone to his suite, it could take up to a full week before his absence was even discovered.

Lockdown seemed to enjoy the look of horror on the racer's face, as he bent backwards with a cackle. "That's _right,_ Kid, you know better than anyone no one's gonna come for you. Besides... I'm sure that pretty little microscope will enjoy your captain's company just as well without you."

That made his whole form lock up and tense. He snarled and screamed over the gag, his optics flashing in anger, his plating creaking from the strain. "Hahaha, _yeah_, I've been watching you, even your little _get-togethers_ with that scientist and the has-been-Prime. Seems like you rather _enjoy_ being tied up, used and abused... Wonder where the affection came from."

Drift flinched as Lockdown spoke about his lovers. Rodimus Prime and Perceptor... They meant the universe to him, but the idea of someone like _Lockdown_ watching their private intimacies... He jerked his head away with a grunt, his optics going dark. It was true, when behind locked doors, he found he had a rather strong attraction to being dominated by his two companions; but Lockdown insisting that it was _his _abuse that caused it? Never!

"Don't lie to yourself, kid. No one can spend all that time tied up and screaming like a bitch and not get the hots for it." The bounty hunter laughed, giving his cheek a mock pat. His massive mod-hand had been replaced with a rather plain-looking one, but each of its fingers were a different color. Just as Drift took notice of it, it was wrapped around his throat.

His throat tubing was sore from having been force-fed the energon; he wheezed weakly and tilted his head back as he was shoved back against the wall. Lockdown's breath smelled like a smelter, and it was almost as hot as he spoke against Drift's face. "What do you say, kid? Do we need to go through the trouble, or are you just gonna agree to me fragging you?" Drift arched his back and tried to pull away, but with his arms ground up against the wall, there was little he could do.

Lockdown yanked the gag from his mouth, and Drift gasped. "_Never_." He snarled out, snapping and nearly biting Lockdown's face. The hunter belted out a massive explosion of laughter, leaning away so that he couldn't be bitten.

"Aaah, I always did like that _spirit_ of yours," He grunted. He emphasized the word 'spirit' with a hard strike to the midsection with his thick, fist-curled hand. Drift cried out in pain, forced to double over as he was dropped roughly to the floor. _"Nnnnnnh...!_" He sobbed as his shattered legs were buckled and forced under his weight. He wheezed out, the pain almost too much again; amazingly, he didn't leak. Whoever had repaired him had done so expecting more abuse.

This did little to comfort him. He coughed as Lockdown's hand grabbed the top of his head and lifted him up, spitting at him when he was forced to look into his face. The mech didn't even seem to react to it. Drift's right optic closed in a wince as those thick fingers curled into his helm. "Looks like you need a little... _Motivation_. You remember ol' Shocky, don't'cha?" He smirked and clenched his fingers tighter, tight enough to dent, ignoring the furious growl that came from the mech. "I _thought_ you might."

Drift didn't see the aforementioned 'Shocky', so when harsh and terrible bolts of electrified energy began tearing through his cranium, he did not expect it, and therefore he screamed even louder. Lockdown held him tightly, letting out a low breathy bout of laughter as he held the swords-mech in a clamp-like grasp for a solid minute before dropping him.

Taking in deep, trembling breaths, the mech heaved, his optics sizzling. "Like the new mod?" He heard the mech looming over him say. The multicolored hand was held in front of his face, and he watched as bright blue sparks began dancing over it. He noticed that as it sparked, it had changed to all one color; azure. Before his lagged processor could comprehend a reason why, it changed; it seemed that each digit had a mod within that changed the whole hand into something else. The yellow one appeared to have some sort of super-heated branding iron on it, as it glowed white and having it so close to his face nearly hurt.

As a Cybertronian, Drift was very much immune to most heat, but this... This was _designed_ to melt the armor of mechs. He jerked away, slamming backwards into the wall. "What's the matter, Driftlock?" Lockdown jeered, leaning closer. He cackled as he moved the branding iron's rounded tip nearer, his laughter getting louder as Drift began to thrash in an attempt to avoid the searing tip.

He bit back a scream, locking his jaw as Lockdown pushed the blistering iron against his armour, starting to carve in a series of glyphs. The first one he burned in along his shoulder; it read something that roughly translated into "whore". The more he jerked and twisted, the more it hurt, but he refused to make it easy. "Look, you messed up my penmanship," The mech chided, lifting his arm as the last smoldering line was carved.

"Bastard," Drift snarled furiously, but his voice was strained.

"Oh good idea, I'll write that next," Lockdown said with a smirk. Drift began to writhe again, nearly pulling his arms out of their sockets as he did. Deciding that he wanted this particular carving to be neat, the hunter slammed his palm into Drift's neck, pinning him in a rather pointed fashion to the wall. Leaning forward, he pushed the blazing tool against his Drift's flank, starting the carving. This set hurt even more, the sword-mech's neural net reacting violently to it.

A scream couldn't be contained as Lockdown finished, shoving it against his armor a little harder and boring a hole nearly to his protoform. "Mmm, what should be emblazoned across that pretty chest of yours, Driftlock? Oh, I know." He cocked a wide grin as he shoved closer, dragging the tip slowly, pushing hard and scoring deep into his armor. He tried to push against him, wriggle free, anything to protect the Autobot symbol he had worked so hard for.

"Nngh- No! _NO!_" He screamed, but it only drew another extended guffaw from the mech. He smirked, taking his sweet time to carve the glyphs into his chest, defacing his emblem almost beyond recognition.

Drift's optics widened as he was able to read what was being scored into his armor, his Spark rapidly cycling. The mech trembled and slumped as the hunter stepped back, a dry sob leaving his throat, his chest steaming from the iron. The glyph read the word "TRAITOR" in bold, hateful symbols. "Now everyone will know what you _really_ are... But I think they might need a little more clarification."

Once again he was pinned, this time with Lockdown's thick hand pressing against the side of his helm to keep it still against the wall. His neck was craned backwards painfully, but nothing could compare to that of the branding iron pressing firmly against his face plates. He screamed; oh, Primus, did he howl, body trashing and twisting to get away. "No-!" He cried out, but somehow, Lockdown was able to make straight lines along his cheek, even going to far as to score over his optic, leaving a thin line through his vision.

Then he was finished, the mech was utterly spent from fighting, the agony growing to be too much. He had no idea what was scored into his sensitive cyber-flesh, but as he looked away, the reflective surface of one of the thick metal tools nearby alerted him. The Decepticon emblem, bold as day, played itself across the right side of his face and optic.

He slumped forward again, helm hanging, the scent of burnt glass and metal filling the air. Lockdown's voice seemed far away, his processor completely lost in horror. "Hn-" He groaned as his helm was roughly lifted in the palm of the unmodified hand, his optics halved and dim.

"I'll stop, you know, if you just say what I want." The large mech whispered with a wicked mirth smothering his words. Drift's optics became dark and he yanked his jaw away.

"_No._ You **filthy,**_** disgusting**_ mech..." The swords mech snarled, though his voice was weak, his conviction was clear. Sadly for Drift, that was _exactly_ what Lockdown wanted to hear.


	2. Chapter 2

If there was anything Lockdown was exceptionally good at, it was being innovative. The things he thought up to do his prisoner were astounding. Drift was just as stubborn in his refusal to consent to interfacing with the bounty hunter, and for that he received hours upon endless hours of daily pain.

The gag was tight in his mouth now, muffling his shrieks as a thin piece of metal, small enough to fit between the seams, was being fed into his flank and stabbing into his internal workings. The pain was meticulous, so sharp and so acute to it's origin that it was almost too much. Lockdown's modified hand gained up a charge before he grasped the rod, sending a horrible shock deep inside Drift's plating.

Somehow, Lockdown had learned how to modify Drift's neural net. He was twice as sensitive to any and all sensations now, and it was starting to drive him mad. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before, bit still he refused the mech's advances. He clenched his jaw over the gag in his mouth and let out a snarling scream against it, his optics clenching shut.

"You know the magic words," Lockdown's teasing voice sounded nearby. He hooked a finger into a gag and pulled it from Drift's clenching teeth, ripping a gasp from him. "Then again, I'm a _patient_ mech," The words caused Drift to laugh dryly. "And I get just as much pleasure watching you scream in pain." That sick smirk made the racer sneer, and he opened his mouth for a snide comment, only to have his internal workings once again electrified.

"Nngh... Hnnnh..." Drift slumped and wheezed as he felt the rod being removed from his body, scraping against his internal parts and making him twitch, but once it was gone he slumped and wheezed. "Never," He repeated, for probably the thousandth time. And just like all the other times, it earned him a cackle from the dark, beastly mech.

"I'm feeling a little _artistic_ today," The hunter said thoughtfully as he tossed the rod aside, after extending his glossa to lap up the small amount of energon collected on it. His mod-filled hand became a flash of yellow, and Drift tensed.

"No," He growled, "You- you fragger, you're-" It had been three days since his first arrival, and the scoring on his shoulder, flank, chest and face all still burned and ached him. His optics widened and reflected the bright white tip of the branding iron, the look of horror on his face clear.

"Heh, if you don't want me to, the just agree to a roll with me," Lockdown's voice was dripping with condescending air. Drift stared for a long moment at the glowing end of the blazing tool, his expression going taunt.

"No," He finally whispered, though he was starting to have doubts. _No_, he repeated to himself, _Do not give in. They will come for me, I just need to hold out until then.._ But even so, there was a miniscule seed doubt in his processor as Lockdown crouched down to at at his unmarred flank. He tensed, unsure if he could withstand another session of this with his hyperactive neural net.

"Let's see... I think you should match, don't you?" Lockdown teased, and began carving out the same glyphs on Drift's right side that were on his left. Drift _screamed_, his optics flickering violently before going painfully bright. He could _read_ the glyphs as they were carved into him, his net so sensitive that he could easily figure out every single symbol that was being carved. It mirrored the one on his other flank, and when Lockdown finished, Drift slumped forward and sobbed openly and loudly.

"What say you _now,_ Driftlock?" Lockdown's voice boomed over his rattling breaths.

"_NO!_" Drift roared, almost automatically, lunching forward to the end of the chain and letting out a loud lament, his form rattling as he did. As the sobs continued, Lockdown stood up straighter, his grin curling the side of his mouth.

"You sure are a stubborn one, but it's certainly worth watching you break one scream at a time." The bounty hunter cooed in a terribly mocking fashion, reaching down to grab at his helm to lift it up, looking into the mech's optics. He chuckled as the white mech coughed and sputtered as the hot breath assaulted his senses.

"Ugh... G-Get off me you f-fragger," He rasped out, curling his lip back in disgust. "D—don't," He growled out as he felt the heat of the branding tool come near his inner thigh. He shook his head and thrashed a little more violently, choking as he was suddenly shoved back against the wall. He sobbed out in pain as his arms were bent back farther as they were pinned against the wall and his back. The thick binds had long since scored into the metal up his wrists and lower arms, and the jarring movement caused his wounds to start bleeding fresh.

"I'm feeling pretty _creative_, I don't know about you," Lockdown's smirk was potent, and it caused Drift to growl deeper, but it only hurt him more when he did. The hand clenched down on his neck made him wheeze, and his fans had to kick on higher to make up for the ventilation loss.

The pressure was slightly lifted, but he still held the white mech pinned against the wall as he lowered his gaze. "No- L—Lockdown, _no, d—don't-_" He babbled as he felt the mech's elbow push his leg open by the knee, and the heated tip of the tool puncture his neural net and hover just over his plating. He struggled but was refrained with embarrassing ease, and as the Decepticon started to draw the molten tip against him. "Nnnnnngh!" Drift was slightly muffled from the hand on his throat, and his arched his back as hard as he could, but with his lower legs mostly missing, there was nothing he could do to escape.

This time, the mech really _was_ being creative. He was writing out the word "Traitor" again, but this time very meticulously carving it in the shape of the Decepticon emblem. It was painful, horrific even, and Drift yowled and screamed continuously through the entire process, his frame heating up from the smoke that was starting to rise from his abused armor as well as his strained joints.

When finished, Lockdown dropped him, sending him to a trembling heap on the floor. He lay on his side, straining the chain that held him to the wall taunt, his plating rattling from how badly he shook. He kept his right leg cocked open if only to keep the freshly burned metal away from the rest of him. He coughed and sobbed against the freezing floor, his optics tightly clenched. "Not bad, not bad at all... But look, you're asymmetrical again. That's _my _job, kid," He chided, and when he only got a weak moan in return his mouth broke into another sickly grin. "Of course, if it's too much..." He reached toward the mech's pelvic plating, but the swords mech jerked away, apparently having just enough wits about him to deny Lockdown.

"N—No," Drift ground out, his jaw set to keep himself from crying out more when Lockdown's large hand came to tightly grasp around his thigh where he was just just branded. "Hnnnngh-" He groaned through his clenched teeth, throwing his head back. He fought hard to keep still and silent as his other thigh was given the same brutal treatment. It didn't go any faster. He started muttering out the names of the glyphs as they were carved, which provided Lockdown with a massive amount of amusement.

Of course, once he was done, Drift had no choice but to sit with his legs as far apart as possible, so for the first time he was sitting on his aft and not his knees. "Primus," He choked out as he leaned against the wall, his cauterized injuries still producing small amounts of smoke, and he began panted thickly.

"Call me Lockdown," He sneered, grasping his face in his palm. He jerked away with a snarl, but the hunter could easily tell he was starting to loose his resolve. One more _should_ do it... But then again, he had a heated determination in his optics as he lay against the wall, staring up into him. "Let's see..." He drawled, gasping his jaw and running his thumb over Drift's lips. He allowed the mech to bite down hard onto it, clearly intending to do some sort of damage, but Lockdown's had no reaction to the violence, and no matter how hard he bit and pulled, the digit would not come loose. "I know..." He held his face firmer this time, once again pinning him. "That 'Con emblem on your face is getting mighty lonely," He commented, looming over him and flicking the flare to life.

The bright white light was enough to make Drift tense, his plating and sensors still whirling from the last encounter. He tried his damnedest to yank away, but he was so weak he could hardly push against the mech's palm as he held him.

What came next was almost too much for him. _Almost_. Pushing the gag back into his mouth and making sure it was nice and tight, Lockdown began carving along his face again, this time starting on the opposing cheek of the emblem, across his mouth, and ending in the middle of the angular faction symbol. The pain was nearly numbing with his sensitized net, and he tilted his head backwards and froze, his optics heating. They fogged, the glass leaking condensation out of the edges of his optics as the glyph symbols were carved with loving detail across his mouth, his lips soon marred. He could read it, just from the pain it cased. It approximately translated into "slut", and it made his spark ache with shame. He was muffled by the gag and it made him sob, more water pouring down the edges of his optics and around his upturned helm from the heat.

"Aww, no need to _cry_, Driftlock," Lockdown's voice was full of sadistic glee, "Mmm, I like these directly on your dermal plating... I daresay, they may even be _permanent_." He said once he had completed his task. He leaned close and lashed out a horribly long tongue, lapping it across the mech's cheek and making him issue a muffled scream from the raw plating being abused. Hooking one finger into the gag, he yanked it out, savoring the sobbing moan that issued from the mech.

"Bastard," He hissed out lowly. "Yo—You're nothing but a c-cowardly- hhnnng-" It hurt to talk, it hurt to move his mouth at all. He sell silent, his optics going dark with anger. Lockdown's expression became even more devious and he slammed his palm down on the newer of the two thigh-symbols, and the scream that belted out from the younger mech was downright _gorgeous_. The scarred plating stretched as he screamed, and tiny tickles of energon came forth from where the lines crossed over his lips.

Lockdown nearly lost control, he rushed forward, locking his fingers against the back of his victim's helm and forcing it as far backwards as it would go, looming close. He sat there, his own vents heaving hard, before he let out a chuckle, shoving Drift's head away as he stood. The swords mech fell into a heap back to the floor, one optic clenching shut as he did, feeling the heated metal of the fresh scar tissue rub against the floor.

"Wh-what is Tormoil even _giving_ you," Drift suddenly gasped, "Or is it no- no one would even _think_ about 'facing with an u—ugly fragger l—like you?" He coughed up a small amount of energon that had dribbled into his mouth while he spoke, the grinding against the floor helping along the flow as his mouth moved. "O-Or is it you want to p-pretend you're not a rapist b—because of what _Megatron_ does to _you?_"

Lockdown had started to laugh, but it cut short at the mention of Megatron. "Don't you _dare_," He growled, amazingly angry at the comment. He was a loyal Decepticon, through and through. "You _left_ us, your side, your _faction_, you vowed your _Spark_ to us... I'm just collecting payment." He snarled, knocking his hand sharply against the mech's chest. "So don't you _dare _suggest that Megatron is a_ rapist._" He slammed his thick pede against Drift's helm, pushing down and twisting, forcing his raw wounds to grind against the rough flooring, eliciting another loud, hysterical scream.

Drift knew he'd gone too far, having been a Decepticon he knew what it meant to infer that Megatron was anything but justice. He let out a chuckle, cutting it short with a grunt as Lockdown shoved against him and removed his pede. He felt the mech's hand on his side, forcing a hiss from him, but his optics tilted slightly to watch that ugly face loom closer. He spat, the shimmering blue substance splattering across Lockdown's face.

There was a silence. It was deep and terrible, Lockdown's optics widened as he stared at Drift, who had to fight to keep the smug grin on his pained mouth. Finally, that nearly painful void of noise was filled with a deep, dark chuckle from the Decepticon. "Y'know, kid, I gotta say, you're pretty impressive for being a run-away coward,"

"_I—I'm _the coward? Y—you're the one who ca—can't even fight a m—mech, ke—eeping me tied up like thi—this," He mustered out, but the pain was starting to make his throat tighten. The laugh that rolled down his spine from the larger mech made him feel ill, his optics rolling up into his helm for a moment.

"I was able to _stealth_ you into this position, you _lost_ before we even had the chance to battle, _Deadlock_." Drift's chest flared angrily and he twisted his frame, pulling the chain holding his arms taunt as he turned to glare at Lockdown.

"My _name_ is _DRIFT!_" He roared, barring his blood stained denta at the mech, who seemed utterly unphased by him. In fact, it was as if he expected, no, _demanded_ such a reaction. Giving him a swift, heavy kick to the midsection, Drift's systems screamed warnings at him; the strike had nearly dislodged his fuel pump. He wondered if his new one had been chosen for abuse such as this. He coughed up a mouth full of blood and spat it to the floor as he rolled to his knees again, sneering as the energon dripped down his chin and neck.

Lockdown said nothing, he had no snide remarks. No, not this time, not yet. He shoved his whole weight against him, slamming him hard enough to dent the wall as he did, one hand pinning the mech's face to the cold metal, while the _snap-chhssk _noise from the flare filled the silence after the bang. Lockdown's hand was trembling as he slowly began carving, with a grand deal of furious force, DEADLOCK into the plating along his neck.

Drift cried out and struggled, his throat flexing and forcing more pain to rocket along his sensors, and he was certain the heat would rupture a fuel line, but Lockdown, despite his trembling rage, seemed to articulate enough to avoid drawing on them directly. "Heh, you need to remember who you really are, Deadlock," He whispered as he finished, the Decepticon graffiti smoking just like the rest of the dirty glyphs that marred his white frame. "In fact, I will personally make sure _everyone_ remembers. After all, wasn't there _someone_ who lied to you, told you could be an Autobot, be anything more than a _murderer,_ but then you ended up being the _death_ of him...?" He smirked at the horror that came over the mech's face.

"What was his name again? You stole his rather pricey sword," He said, motioning to the still blade that had been put on display with the tools of torture. "Was it- Sling? Zing? Or was it-"

"_WING! His name, was __**WING!**__" _Drift screamed, his optics flashing furiously. Despite having fallen for this bait last time, he just couldn't let the fallen warrior be besmirched. His optics creased in pain at the memory. It had been _his fault..._ He was jarred from his own mind as the chain connecting him to the wall was unhinged, and he was yanked from his position. His arms, tied together as they were, did not bend at the elbow when Lockdown began pushing them upwards as if to pin them over his head. Panic set into his Spark as he felt the hunter push his shoulder joints far beyond their limits, feeling cables snap, and his joints pop out of their sockets with a heavy _squelch_. Drift had had his limbs disjointed before, but never with his senses so terribly hiked up.

His mouth opened and he arched his back, his optics wide as he stared at the wall in front of him, but nothing came out, just a wheezed scream. Frame trembling, he almost didn't feel as Lockdown hunkered behind him, pushing his chest to the floor, hooking the chain back into place to keep him locked in that position. Not that he could've moved with the pain rocketing through his systems. "Nn-" He couldn't even object anymore, his chest thrumming hard and fast as fear began taking over his processor. He felt Lockdown's hips settle down on his lower back, and it made him jolt, but there was no other movement he could make.

The burning sensation that started between his shoulders forced a choked sob from him, but Lockdown was no longer savoring it. He was making a point. He pushed down harshly, making the scoring deeper than any of the others, as he hastily and angrily etched out the word "MURDERER" across his shoulder blades. Once he realized what the brand was, Drift slumped, his optics halved. He felt the label sear deeper than just physical pain, his processor flashing the thousands of Autobots and NAILs he had slaughtered, all in the name of the cause.

He sobbed as a second inscription was made, weaving within that of the first. "WING". His helm slumped as he sank down to crumple into a useless heap, sobs ripping themselves from his throat. "It wasn't-" He tried to scream out _it wasn't my fault_, but he couldn't. It _was._ Wing was dead because of _him_, because of his work with the Decepticons, his failure to protect the mech who had changed him so.

"Oh, yes it was. I was _there_, kid," Lockdown uttered, drawing over the symbols for 'murderer' again, scoring them even deeper into the thick armor of his shoulders, where his sword normally rested. "I know it was _all_ your fault, after all... If you hadn't shown up, if you hadn't been taken under by him, he'd still be around, wouldn't he, _Deadlock?_"

This time, Drift had no objections to the use of his old name. He was almost entirely still, his frame quaking in silent sobs. He made no noise a the chain was unhooked again, but he did let out a garbled scream as his shoulders were roughly popped back into place by the sharp grasp of Lockdown. He was forced back into position, but he didn't fight, in fact he was completely limp. He slumped forward when he was let go, falling to the end of the chain and letting out a weak cry as the words that hurt far more than all the others combined were pressed against.

Lockdown stepped back to gaze over him; the deep black branding stuck out attractively against his stark white armor and silver face plate. There was only the faintest of tremors that rocked the mech's form, making the tiniest of rattling. He was perched on his knees, his thighs spread open to make sure the still-raw emblems on his legs did not touch. Blood dripped, collecting in a tiny pool, from his lips, the defacing word having been stretched and abused to the point of flowing almost freely. Still more energon leaked from his shoulder joints, slithering down hid chest to dip into the glyphs there, flooding over after a short while and racing down his abdomen and eventually pooling on the floor where his knees touched the floor, drawing a hiss from his clenched jaw as it slid over the burned in badges on his inner legs.

"You look good like that," Lockdown's voice was lower now, pleasure rumbling through him in waves. Drift seemed utterly broken, all fight having left his optics as they stared hollowly at the floor. "I'll be back... Gonna let you sit here and gestate on your current situation. You put yourself into this. Remember that, Deadlock." He growled, and this time he didn't even get a twitch or a flinch from mentioning his former name. He chuckled, giving his helm a rough and mocking pat before he headed toward the exit.

As the door slammed, the white mech let out a long, pained sob. He had been keeping it within, even though he was sure Lockdown was watching from a feed somewhere, he didn't care. He screamed in his agony, the emotionally exhausting session making him roar and push against the end of the chain, blood dripping down his teeth to join the puddle on the floor.

The last of his energy spent, he slumped, optics going black as he powered down. He couldn't stand to be alone with his own processor, so he put himself into forced stasis, if only to escape the doubts and horrors that were already trying to wriggle their way to the forefront of his mind.


End file.
